One Way Trip
by TasteXxXtheXxXRainbowXxX
Summary: Going out clubbing was probably the only thing Jim was ever on time for, Nichole mused. But now, looking back, sometimes she wished that he hadn't insisted on going out that night. It would have made her life a hell of a lot easier. - No pairings yet.


**A/N: I'm back after starting all over again with a clean slate. I decided that I had far too many stories up at one time that just weren't getting updated and therefore decided to start all over again and take it just one story at a time. Some people may recognise this chapter as part of thr story that I had already uploaded, but it is slightly changed and the storyline is different this time around. And like the summary says, there are no pairings yet for my OC and there's a poll up on my profile about it because I simply can't choose. So yes, I'm back and enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Nichole and her family.  
**

**Prologue**

"Come on! Come on! Don't fail on me now!" Eighteen year old James T. Kirk sat on his bike, trying desperately to get the infernal thing to work. He'd gotten the damned thing a few weeks a go and so far it seemed to be suffering from bi-polar disorder. Some days it worked, and others it just couldn't be bothered to.

Jim, as he preferred to be called, had just been engaged in yet another fight with his step-father Frank over his poor school attendance. It wasn't that Jim wasn't a bright boy; on the contrary, his aptitude test was off the charts. He was just lazy. Needless to say, that didn't help his case against Frank. So after enduring the yelling and threats of further punishment, Jim had slammed the door in Frank's face and hopped onto his bike only to find that today was one of those temperamental days.

Frustrated, Jim got off the bike and kicked it. Bad decision. Pain shot through his right leg and for a few minutes he hopped around on one foot. He would have found the situation comical if it didn't hurt so damn much. Letting out a slow, painful breath, he ran a greasy hand through his hair.

"Hey! You need a little help?" Jim turned around. A dark haired girl around his age was leaning against the wall of the house next to his with an amused expression on her face. He could feel his cheeks burn as he realised she must have seen all that. In an attempt to scavenge his wounded pride, he casually leaned back on his bike with his hands in his pockets and suave grin on his face.

"Depends," He started. "You know anything about bikes?"

She laughed and pushed off from the wall she was leaning on. "A little." She replied with a secretive smile.

He moved out of the way to give her some room, all the while admiring her shapely behind. She crouched down beside the bike and started poking and prodding. Her eyes widened.

"Good god! Where did you get this thing, the trash heap?" Arms crossed, she turned to face him.

"Possibly." He answered cryptically. There was no need for her to know that he'd gotten it from his friend Johnny who "borrowed" it from some guy who lived two doors down from him.

Shaking her head, she began to tick stuff off of her fingers. "Well for starters you need a new clutch and gearbox, possibly some new tires too, they look they were made in the twenty-first century, along with a basic service and re-paint." She stood up after rubbing her dirty hands on her jeans. "But if I were you, I'd just start all over again and replace everything."

Jim nodded, impressed. "Wow, you sound like you really know your stuff." She shrugged modestly. It took only another moment for Jim to turn on the charm. "Jim Kirk." He offered his hand with a mischievous smile.

She laughed. "Nice try buddy." Waving his hand away, she quirked an eyebrow. "And I know who you are. You are James Tiberius Kirk."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do I know you?" He mentally started to tick off all the girls that he'd met and not once could he remember meeting a girl with dark curly hair like hers.

The smile on her face vanished. "You don't recognise me, really?" She asked incredulously. "You honestly don't know who I am?" Jim nodded slowly. "You sure?"

Jim began to panic. From her obvious distress, for some reason he ought to know who she was. But as much as he racked his brain he just drew a blank. He blinked at her, utterly confused.

"No, should I?" He asked hesitantly.

"Oh no, I've only sat next to you in homeroom for the past four years of high school, that is when you can bothered to show up, and lived next to you for practically your entire life!"

Oh, that would be why she was so upset. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and shrugged.

The girl huffed and ran a hand through her hair. "Well I suppose I should introduce myself then, huh?" She smiled again. "Nichole I-don't-have-a-middle-name O'Conner, at your service." She finished her introduction with a flamboyant bow.

Jim smirked, this girl amused him. "Well Nichole I-don't-have-a-middle-name O'Conner, do you know anybody who'd be able to fix this hunk o' junk?" He asked, jabbing a thumb in the bike's direction.

Nichole smirked back and nodded. "My dad and I'll do the best we can." She sighed and kicked one of the bike's tires. "But I can't make any promises. Plus it might take a while." She turned to face him. "You're welcome to come and help out whenever you want though!" She stated with a warm smile.

Jim smiled right back. "You know, I might just take you up on that offer."

The smaller teen held out a hand for him to shake. The girl seemed nice enough, Jim concluded, and she seemed to know what she was doing. With a little nod to himself, he engulfed her much smaller hand in his and gave it one brisk shake.


End file.
